


Feeling Like Everybody

by Fully_Charmed_Kinda_Life



Category: In the Heights - Miranda
Genre: Cuddling, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, M/M, Minor drug references, its mostly just cuddling with some feelings actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-22 18:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12487972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fully_Charmed_Kinda_Life/pseuds/Fully_Charmed_Kinda_Life
Summary: There’s a certain nuance required when knocking at your best friend’s door at three in the morning.That being said, Sonny couldn’t care less.





	Feeling Like Everybody

_This is good._ Sonny decides, leaning his head against the rattling window as his taxi drags along through the evening traffic. It’s almost unbearably warm compared to the biting air outside, but he’s a bit too drunk and a bit too cold to care. A tingling, warm feeling creeps up into his feet, and he looks down at them as if his stare will heat them up faster. He’s not wearing shoes. _Where are his shoes?_

“Where are my shoes?” Sonny asks the cab driver.

“No idea, kid,” she says, and pulls up to the curb. “Here, I’ll let you out here so you can go right up.”

He presses an unsorted wad of bills onto the console, pushes the cab door open with his foot, and lurches onto the cold concrete. He waves at the driver and tilts his head back to look around. The streets are well lit, yet still dark, like a thick blue and grey blanket has been pulled over them. He turns to the building in front of him. It’s not his. This is Pete’s place. How’d he get here? 

_“Where you headed, kid?” the driver asked, leaning over to look at the shoe-less student dragging himself into the car._

_Sonny groaned. “Uh, home. Fu-” He tugged the leg of his pants out of the car door._

_The woman gave him a sympathetic pout. “Gonna need an adress, hon.”_

_He pulled up Pete’s street adress on his phone and showed her. “Take me here?”_

Oh, yeah.

The cab skirts away and Sonny trudges into the little entrance to Pete’s building. He rattles the rusty doorknob until it gives and enters the stairwell. He’s so cold again, all of the sudden, and it occurs to him to wonder what the hell happened to his shoes and jacket. He finally reaches the fourth floor and shoulders the heavy door open. He knows Pete lives in 4H, and too tired to read, Sonny simply counts the fourth door to the right and knocks lightly. 

There’s shuffling behind the door, and the sound of locks sliding apart. The door swings open and there’s Pete, in a loose tee and sweatpants. He looks Sonny up and down, from his tousled hair and glitter-smudged face to his sock-clad feet. He smirks and shakes his head lightly.

“Have a nice night?” he asks.

Sonny opens his mouth and then closes it again. Speaking isn’t doing him any good; his thoughts fizzle out and get scrambled each time he tries. He opts instead to shrug and loosely sling his arms around Pete’s middle, pushing himself closer. He buries his face into Pete’s neck, and if he happens to press his lips into the warm skin there, then that’s entirely his business and nobody else’s.  


Pete pats his back and wraps one of his arms around Sonny’s shoulders, letting out a short sigh that Sonny echoes. Not pulling back, he steers them inside, onto his tiny second-hand loveseat. What’s left of the cheap leather cover crunches a bit as they sit down, still leaning into each other. There’s a barely-comfortable silence between the boys; Sonny amuses himself toying with the unsewn hem of Pete’s right sleeve.  


“So, you high or what?” Pete finally asks bluntly.  


Sonny shrugs and drops his sleeve, pressing the side of his face into Pete’s shoulder again. He chews his lip and thinks for a moment. “I dunno,” he answers after a while. “Didn’t take anything. Probably just a brownie.”  


“Man, you gotta be more careful with that shit,” Pete chides him, then gently knocks at his head and adds, “and tell me if you start feeling weird. Can’t have you passin’ out when you don’t even know what you took.”

Sonny mumbles something dismissive and tilts his wrist towards the window, lifting his face Fromm Pete’s shoulder. His watch glints in the streetlight’s glow, but the numbers are still too small and dark to read. 

”It’s two-forty,” Pete tells him, and gently pushes Sonny’s wrist down. “You’ve gotta shift tomorrow, don’t you? I’ll walk you home.” With the arm still around Sonny, he hauls them both up, only for Sonny to become dead weight and crash back onto the sofa. 

Sonny looks up at Pete with glazed, sleepy eyes and makes very urgent grabby-hands in his direction. As soon as Pete sits back down, Sonny wriggles back into his arms and stays there. “I can go home tomorrow. Lemme stay. S’ too late any-” he yawns. “-Way.” He looks up at his friend, who’s actually blushing- and wow, flustered and exhausted is actually a great look on him. In a brief moment of clarity, Sonny laughs at how embarrassed and/or horny (he mentally checks off both) this would have him were he sober. As it is, he’s absolutely _not_ sober, so he takes full advantage of the situation, resting his head against Pete’s chest.

”You gonna let me get a blanket?” Pete asks and tries to shift Sonny over so he’s not being crushed.

Sonny mourners a quiet, “Nah. ‘M cozy.” before his eyes drift close. Pete sighs and smiles fondly. Nights like these- when it’s just Sonny, and him, and involuntary cuddles- are just rare enough to catch him by surprise. He wishes they wouldn’t always have to start with a party and end in a hangover, of course he does. But they always do, so he just settles for that. Partly because Sonny is stubborn, even when he’s tired or drunk. Mainly though, it’s for a chance to hold him close as they drift off and pretend that this is how it always is. It’s nice.

On the table across the room, his radio clock glares at him. Ah, three o'clock. The cutoff time for any intelligent thought. Slowly, so as not to disturb the boy in his lap, Pete reaches for one of the flattened, dense pillows stacked up on the arm of the couch and rests his head on it. Never letting go of Sonny, he lets himself drift off to the sound of their mingling breaths.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven’t written in a while, so this is more me playing with style than anything. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, and know that I’d love to hear from you- leave a comment about the story, your thoughts, or prompts, or really anything!
> 
> x


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